


Sweet

by MizJoely



Series: Bittersweet Symphony [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:36:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1500404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble follow-up to my story, "Bitter."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet

“I’m not anymore.”

Sherlock glanced up from the microscope; the experiment wasn’t that pressing and Molly’s ambiguous statement was intriguing enough to capture his full attention. “Not anymore what?” he obliged her by asking. He’d recently learned to repress his impulse to simply deduce her as he did everyone else, having found that he rather enjoyed hearing things from her own lips first. And of course, he really didn’t want to be slapped by her again. Not that the slapping happened because of the deducing, of course; it was because he’d relapsed using the weak excuse of the Magnussen case. But being shot and nearly dying on the operating table had brought clarity about a lot of things in his life, and one of them was Molly Hooper. Who was standing a few steps closer than she had been when she’d first spoken.

“Bitter.”

Sherlock was on his feet and had Molly in his arms before she could say another word. He could see the surprised expression on her face, and then he couldn’t because he was too busy snogging the breath out of her to focus. 

When he came up for air, her face was red and he’d apparently undone her hair from its neat ponytail, as it was now hanging down around her shoulders. She gaped at him for a moment before gasping out, “But I don’t want a rebound relationship, Sherlock,” to which he immediately replied, “Nor do I. Linens storage cupboard, third floor, near the area where the refurbishing is taking place. Lunchtime, no one will be around.” Then he kissed her again and sprinted out the doors, grinning like a lunatic as he went in search of the necessities, knowing at least four doctors whose desk lap drawers held condoms.

He heard Molly calling after him, “Half an hour, then!” and grinned even wider. Good, she wasn’t going to give him any ridiculous arguments about this being her work place. If she had, of course, he’d have willingly (if impatiently) waited for her to join him at Baker Street at the end of her shift, but frankly the two of them had waited long enough for this moment – mostly because of his own idiocy, he was perfectly willing to admit that.

Well, he was done with that; pushing Molly Hooper away, whether to maintain his mental acuity (bosh, she sharpened his mind if anything) or out of some vague desire to not hurt her (he’d done that with appalling regularity during the years they’d known one another, so that was a rubbish excuse as well) or for whatever lies he’d told himself – no, no more. He’d cheekily offered himself as a rebound relationship when the truth was that Tom was the rebound, and what was about to happen between William Sherlock Scott Holmes and Molly Elizabeth Hooper was what had been meant to happen all along: a sweet surrender.

He could hardly wait.


End file.
